


The Day Justice Died

by DawnDoe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Established Relationship, F/F, Heartbreak, Lets see where this is going, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 22:46:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12375717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnDoe/pseuds/DawnDoe
Summary: Loosing a loved one is never easy. And dealing with it is always hard. But one should try to stick to ones path and if chosen to follow a different direction it might lead into a darkness from where on can not return.





	The Day Justice Died

**Author's Note:**

> The lawfully good are one of the strongest people on this earth. On their shoulders rest the hope, the faith and the dreams of the innocent, the ones who can’t fend for themselves and the wrongfully treated. They are the pillars who build this world and keep it safe and sound. They have the strength to walk through hell and the deepest darkness and come out unscathed still firmly holding on to their beliefs and guiding light.
> 
> But every strength will weaken and determination can fade away, even the strongest mind can be broken if pondered upon and god safe us all, the day the good fall into the grasp that is their darkness and don’t return.

The floor to her feet looked cold and harsh, the greyish blue of the corridors had followed her now for what seemed like ours. First the floor of the emergency car, then the reception, the ambulance, the waiting room, the operation hall and the corridor in front of the operation hall now. Somewhere doors opened and closed, people walked past her, only boots and white shoes followed by more boots. Somewhere the ticking of a clock turned another round. She knew since the needle always ticked louder reaching the top. It must have been hours since she looked up to find out where the clock ticked louder and where it didn’t just to continue staring back at the floor and her feet.   
Her fingers had gone numb. Somebody had told her to get out of her armour, to go home, change, get a little rest but their words had passed right over her head until they had just talking all together. Nobody sat next to her, all of them had gone to god knows where but it was of no interest to her.  
She just sat there, starred and the floor and waited for something, anything to happen.

“You are still here?” a voice asked, rough and so much quieter than normally. Fareeha looked up, looking at Reinhardt standing in front of her, wearing civilian clothes. He seems smaller without his armour and less intimidating. His hair was unkempt and his normally happy or serious face had turned to a mask of worry and hurt accentuated by dark circles under his eyes. She shrugged, not even sure if she would be able to talk after the hours of sitting and starring.  
Reinhardt sat down next to her, carefully placing his massive hand on her shoulder. She didn’t shrug him off, she couldn’t care less. 

The wall in front of her was white with an orange line. Why orange. Couldn’t they have used something more calming like blue? Or maybe just go for the red screaming emergency or why not black death right away if they were at it. The metal of her gloves clacked loudly as she clenched her hands. This was taking too long. Everything was taking too long. The mission, the way here, the waiting time, the way to the operation hall, the doctors now.

“Take your armour off kid. It won’t do anybody any good if you wear it forever.” “Can’t” was all Fareeha mustered before going back to stare at her feet, the dark blue of her suit shining against the ugly colour of the floor. She felt Reinhardt getting up, kneeling in front of her, taking her gloved hands in his massive ones, waiting for her patiently to look up. It took her a whole minute before she could face him and even then, her eyes weren’t focusing on him. She was blaming herself, Reinhardt could see it. He had seen the “look” on many soldiers faces and knew what it could do to a person. 

“You need to take it off” he insisted, his voice still soft and silent. He needed to break through to her somehow. Angela or Jesse would be able to but Angela was in there and Jesse somewhere in Canada for all he knew. She didn’t respond. “Fareeha, please” Calling her by her name finally made her focus on him. Her face was unusual pale, still covered in dirt, eyes clouded but more focused than before.   
He decided to try one more time: “Fareeha, I know how long you’ve already sat here and I am not bold enough to assume what you are going through” he paused, waiting for her to react in any way before continuing without a response: “You need to get yourself cleaned, take this armour off. If you don’t want to rest come back here but you can’t stay like this here it’s been almost ten hours.”

Ten hours. She drifted away again, staring at the ugly floor. It’s been ten hours and not a word from behind those doors. No one coming in or out. No one informing her. Her hands clenched to fists once again. She felt Reinhardt pulling her up to her feet. She was done resisting. She never resisted in the first place. Her mind had been blank for most of the time. All she was able to do was stare at things and wait. 

Reinhardt guided her through the corridors, past nurses and doctors and patients starring at her dirty, blood smeared suit, out of the doors, carefully sitting her down in a car which proved difficult with the jetpack attached to her suit, and started driving. The lights of the street lights were already dying down, replaced by the dim light of the sun going up. When had the sun started rising? It had been shortly past its peak when she had entered the hospital. 

The door of the car opened, hands guiding her out, through some doors, up some stairs, through a couple of doors again until she stood in a bathroom. “I’ll be outside” was the last Reinhardt said and the door closed behind him.

Fareeha stood there, her eyes wandering over the light blue coloured walls, cream floor and soft towels colour coordinated to the rest of the room. What was she doing here? She needed to get back. Turning around she stood in front of the door. Reinhardt wouldn’t let her go back without her clean. 

Her armour hit the floor with a dull sound, followed by her pants, shirt and underwear. The water was cold as it hit her skin, washing away the blood, dirt and sweat, swirling down the drain. Her hands started to hurt as the water washed over them pulling her attention to them. She couldn’t remember when she had hurt them, her knuckles were bloody, the water cleaning the wounds, revealing small cuts spread all over her fingers. She would need to bandage some of them but most would heal within the day.

She found new cloths on a side stand. When did they get there? Where they here before she entered the room. Pulling her shirt down she opened the door, finding Reinhardt sitting in an armchair, his arms crossed, waiting for her. Sparing her any more words he just got up, leading her through the door back into the car, driving her back to the hospital and back to the chair she sat on not more than an hour ago. Back to starring at the floor again. 

The clock ticked its thousands round before the door opened again, a very tired Angela coming out of the room, her hair sweaty in a messy ponytail. Fareeha felt her heart painfully tighten, watching Reinhardt get up, talking quietly with Angela, nodding and leaving. Angela turned towards her, her eyes dark weather with grief or exhaustion Fareeha could not tell. Suddenly her legs felt weak and heavy, unable to carry her weight she just sat there, waiting for Angela to come to her.

Angela kneeled before her, mustering Fareeha from head to toe. She must have stayed here forever and it was near a miracle that Reinhardt had convinced her to shower and switch clothes. Although her hair was a mess and one of her braids got undone, slowly untangling itself.  
“Fareeha, are you with me?” Angela asked, her voice soft and slow, her eyes not leaving Fareehas. She didn’t know how she would react or if she would react at all and although she didn’t expect it would happen, she couldn’t use Fareeha fainting on her. Fareeha gave her a short nod, her normally so warm and energetic eyes dark and empty, deprived of any light that carried her otherwise.   
“Your mother is alive” she started, watching Fareehas any move: “we need to monitor her for the next 48 hours but if nothing unexpected happens she will survive.” 

Fareeha felt a weight lifted of her shoulders but Angela wasn’t finished, she saw it at the way she twisted her fingers. She always did that when there was something more.  
“Fareeha” Angela locked their eyes, taking Fareehas hands in hers: “Your mother is in a coma- and I am not sure if she will wake up.”

Fareeha heard her heartbeat. It was too slow. It should be fastening but it was slowing down. The world seemed to crash around her with the sound of glass shattering. Her hands became numb, the numbness crawling up her arms, over her shoulders, reaching her chest, spreading from there to every corner of her body. She heard her voice, heard herself say something but the meaning was beyond her. Angela stood up. Fareeha saw her lips moving but the words were too quiet to be understood.

She felt herself standing up, following Angela through more of the corridors, lid by lights too bright and still too cold, through a doorframe into a room filled with bright lights and beeping. Fareeha wished the clock back with the uneven ticking, just to replace the beeps.  
The room was dominated by a bed, surrounded by monitors, all blinking and beeping, connected to a small human laying in the bed, eyes closed, face hidden behind an oxygen mask.

Her mother seemed so small under all the blankets, her body weirdly deformed with all the tubes coming out of it. Her silvery hair spread on the pillow seemed to have lost its glow, her dark skin dull and colourless, her missing eye hidden under a white eyepatch. She would have hated that thing, Fareeha thought, walking to the bed, starring down at this fragile, tiny human being. Her hand hovered over the hand of her mother, unable to touch it, unable to say a word to her. 

She turned and walked out. “Fareeha!” she heard Angela call her, hasty steps following her, trying to keep up with her long legs, catching up to her at almost the entrance hall, cutting in front of her. Angela looked up to her, her blue eyes still dark: “Where are you going?” “Out” “Where?” Angela worried. She had told enough relatives of patients’ bad news and Fareeha seemed like the kind to go off and do something stupid and she couldn’t be responsible for it.

“I am going to kill that woman.” Angela almost choked: “Excuse me?” Fareeha looked down, eyes dark, every ounce of light lost: “I am going to kill that woman.” She repeated, her voice as cold as her eyes. A shiver ran down Angelas spine: “You can’t just-“ Fareeha interrupted her: “I can and I will and when I get back my mother will be up again and we can continue.” Angela was too stunned to stop Fareeha walking around her, leaving the hospital. She had expected stupid. She had not expected murderous. 

The sun was already high on the sky, its greyish light forcing its ways through a thick wall of clouds doing their best to darken the world. Her hotel room was clean as always. Somebody had put her armour in her room, cleaned. She took her breastplate into her hands, fingers tracing the scratch the bullet had left there. If she had just stood a little bit more turned towards the edge, the bullet wouldn’t have trailed of, for all she knew it would have stayed stuck in her armour or hit her for all she cared.

Sitting down she stared at the scratched metal. She would need to find her first, track her down, best somewhere isolated and the kill her. Quick, no playing around. As much as she would like to make her feel the pain she inflicted on all those people before her mother, it was the torture and the time the bad guys took that gave the heroes time for the rescue. She wouldn’t make that mistake. A clean kill, quick and easy. A knife perhaps although a rocket would be more satisfying. 

The opening of the door made her look up, ready to spring up if she needed to defend herself but it was just Angela, peeking in: “I thought you might be asleep. Didn’t you her me knock?” Fareeha didn’t answer, her eyes staring at the scratch again, her hands clasping around the piece of armour meant to protect. Angela waited before she came over to her, closing the door behind her, sitting down next to her, her eyes wandering over Fareehas shoulders, bend under some burden she took upon bearing herself.

They sat like that for a while, before Fareeha said a word: “What am I supposed to do?” Angela was surprised but it gave her hope. If Fareeha was asking this, she wasn’t ready to just storm off and murder someone. But she had to be careful: “Maybe-“ she started, taking the plate out of Fareehas hands: “you should start with trying to sleep a little bit. You have been up for more than forty hours. You need some rest.” 

“How am I supposed to sleep with this?” Fareehas voice was silent, anger colouring her warm voice in a dark hue. Taking the plate out of Angelas hands she threw it across a room where it went down in a shower of shards from the remains of a vase she hit. Angela saw her grit her teeth, directing her attention to her hands. “May I?” she asked, taking Fareehas hands in her own, ignoring the demolished decorations across the room. Her hands were dark against her own light skin, covered in copper scars from battles past and new cuts and bruises, some of them needing her attention. “I’ll be right back” Angela whispered, standing up to get the first aid kid from the bathroom.

A tug at her hand held her back, making her turn around again. Fareeha wasn’t looking at her but her hand held her firmly: “Could you – stay?” It was more of a mumble than anything else. “I will be back in a second, I promise.” Angela said, carefully loosening Fareehas grip on her hand: “I need to care for your injuries before it gets ugly.” Fareeha nodded, still not looking at her. 

It took Angela a couple of minutes to find the first aid kid before returning to the room, Fareeha still sitting on the edge of her bed. Kneeling in front of her she opened the kit, taking out some disinfectant and a couple of cotton balls, drenching them in the clear liquid. Carefully she started cleaning the cuts on Fareehas hands. It had to burn like hell but Fareeha didn’t bat an eyelash, her dark eyes following Angelas practiced movements as she first cleaned her right, then her left before bandaging her hands, closing the kit and looking up at her: “Does it hurt much?”

Fareeha shook her head, stretching her fingers, feeling the pain just dully against a wall inside her head, not able to break through. She felt cold, Angelas hands warm on her skin, she finally searched for Angelas eyes, meeting her worried gaze: “Please don’t look at me like one of your projects.”  
“I am not- “ “Spare me” Fareeha raised a hand, standing up, removing her shirt: “I’m tired, I should go to bed.” 

“Do you want me to-“ 

“No.”

Fareehas shirt landed on the floor, followed by her pants. She felt Angelas look in her back. She knew that look. It was the same Angela gave all the people she felt would need patching up on any sorts of injury, mental or physical. She wasn’t one of her charity cases and she was determined not to become one. She heard the door closing and steps getting silent before she turned around. The room was empty.

It was the middle of the night as Angela woke up at the sound of her door opening and closing, followed by silent steps through the room. Grabbing the knife under her pillow she lay there, silent, waiting for the intruder to come closer. “Angela?” she recognized the voice as Fareehas, broken and silent but still Fareehas. She lay still, waiting for something to happen. She was afraid that if she answered her, she would change her mind and leave.

She heard steps coming closer towards her bed, the ruffling of her blanket, then strong, warm arms sneaking around her waist, pulling her close. Fareeha nuzzled her head against her back, making herself small, cuddling tight against Angela. She felt her tremble, her hands shaking.  
Angela turned around, slowly as to not spook Fareeha, her arms wrapping around Fareehas shaking shoulders, pulling her close against her chest. She felt hot tears drenching her shirt as Fareeha pulled her even closer, silently sobbing in her arms as Angela caressed her hair, hugging her tight.

Hours passed by before Fareeha fell asleep in Angelas arms, her sobs slowly dying into silent crying before exhaustion overpowered her, her body relaxing, falling asleep. Angela made sure that Fareeha was fully covered by her blanket before closing her eyes, slowly drifting into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
